The Bookstore (A Poem)

Nothing excites me more
Than stepping into a bookstore.
Rows and rows of books
Beckoning me to pick them up.
My gaze moves along the spines
Fingers running over the words,
Flipping through the pages.

Nothing excites me more
Than stepping into a bookstore.
My ears perk up at the conversation
Of a group of people
Discussing the story of a book on the shelf.
They instantly bring a smile to my face.
“They are my kindred spirits,” I tell myself.

Nothing excites me more
Than stepping into a bookstore.
Paperbacks and hardcovers,
Old classics and new releases,
Spread across shelves
Opening their arms and welcoming
Readers, young and old.

Nothing excites me more
Than stepping into a bookstore.
For no matter where else I go,
There ain’t any joy that matches
Being with these beautiful tomes,
Who wait for bibliophiles
To give them a new home.

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